


Heaven in a Wild Flower

by DostoevskyBrosK



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Brotherly Love, Don't copy to another site, Fluff and Angst, Gandalf Mentor, Generally Terrible Denethor, Hurt Faramir, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29847069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DostoevskyBrosK/pseuds/DostoevskyBrosK
Summary: With a father like Denethor, Faramir’s confidence has never been high. Always worried that he will fall short or that he will be proved as useless as his father seems to think him, Faramir too often thinks less of himself. This is the story of three people who love Faramir and helped him to love himself.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Faramir (Son of Denethor II)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	1. Hold Infinity in the Palm of your Hand

**Author's Note:**

> I just really love Faramir – he was one of my first crushes ever and unlike some of my others, he has grown with me well, and it seems like I will always get to enjoy him. The chapter titles to this fic are all going to be taken from William Blake’s Auguries of Innocence (which I also fell in love with young and never grow tired of) – the full poem will be in the endnotes if you are interested.  
> Note: This story is written by me (although obviously inspired by another's work). I do not want this posted anywhere else.  
> © All rights reserved.  
> No part of this publication (unless for personal use) may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, stored in a database and / or published in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

**Faramir is one day old**

Boromir darted in between the nurses who were exited his mother’s room each one carrying white towels stained with blood. _Why is there so much blood? Blood is never good_. He stopped on the threshold of the door. His mother’s room looked dark and bleak as it never had before. Boromir felt frozen in place as if he could not, or should not, move.

“Is that my brave Boromir?” Finduilas spoke quietly but with enough strength that it brought some small comfort to Boromir. _Maybe everything is alright_. He walked a little further into the room.

“He should not be here, Madam.” One of the nurses whispered to his mother.

But Finduilas merely shook her head. “Nonsense. Where else should his brother be. Come closer, Boromir.” Finduilas weakly patted the space next to her on the bed. She looked so small in the middle of a large bed, dwarfed by the piles of blankets and pillows.

“Are you alright, Mama?” Boromir was aware his voice shook a little. He tried to straighten up his shoulders to make up for it.

“I am doing better now, Sweet Boromir. Come closer, see what I have in my arms.”

Boromir stretched himself forward and noticed what he thought was a mere blanket in his mother’s arms was actually a child. “My new brother?” he asked cautiously.

“Just as I promised you.” Boromir could hear more than see his mother’s smile. She _had_ mentioned that he would have a new brother soon. He just had not fully believed her. The other times he was told a new sibling was coming always resulted in nothing, except Boromir not being able to see his mother for several days or weeks. “Is he not beautiful?”

Boromir peered at the wee thing and shrugged. Finduilas laughed a gentle, musical laugh, which made Boromir feel warm.

“Snuggle up to me, Boromir.”

Boromir did as his mother asked him, enjoying the warmth he felt at her side.

Finduilas carefully moved the swaddled baby she was holding into Boromir’s hands. “This is Faramir.”

“Faramir.” Boromir whispered. He looked back at his mother who was looking at the child in his arms. The baby made some noise that Boromir could not quite recognize, moving his attention back to him. “He is so tiny.”

“He is. So tiny and vulnerable right now. But he is your brother.” Finduilas put her arms around Boromir, squeezing him. “That means you are going to need to protect him and keep him safe.”

Boromir felt pride swelling in him. “I can do that, Mama!”

Finduilas laughed, making Boromir smile even more. “I know you can. You are my brave boy, and I have never seen you afraid of anything.”

Boromir nodded his head. “Never, Mama!”

“Brothers are a wonderful thing to have.”

“Like Uncle Imrahil to you?”

“Exactly so. Now, I am older than Imrahil, but that does not mean I did not need his help sometimes. You are older than Faramir, and you will protect him and help him as he grows. But he will help you as well. Imrahil is dear to me as Faramir will be to you. Sometimes you may grow frustrated with him – he will be much smaller than you and want to play when you might prefer to play with the older boys. But you must always take care of him and let him take care of you.”

Boromir struggled to follow along with everything she was saying but nodded his head dutifully. Just then the little baby in his arms started to open his eyes. He blinked them several times, as if he was trying to understand the new sight before him.

“Hello there.” Boromir spoke quietly because it seemed to be the thing to do, although he would have much preferred to shout gleeful to welcome his brother. “My name is Boromir. I am your brother.” 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Faramir is 2 years old**

 _Where did Faramir get off to? I must find him before our nurse comes back outside._ Boromir was feeling a little panicked. He just looked away for two seconds. _That is all it was!_ Boromir tried to calm his breathing. _It is going to be alright. Faramir could not have gotten anywhere dangerous out here in Mama’s garden._

He bit his lip looking uncertainly around. _I cannot let anything happen to Faramir. He is so young. So little. And it does not seem like we are going to be getting any other siblings_. Boromir paused in his search and looked up to his mother’s window. She had not left her room in the past two weeks. Boromir told himself he was not worried. _About Mama at least. But I do need to find Faramir soon_.

“Faramir!” Boromir called. He tried to keep it quiet so no one inside would hear him. Would know that he lost his brother.

“Borom’r!” Faramir’s sweet lisping voice called back. “Come. Bug t’ show.”

“You have a bug to show me?” Boromir smiled as he followed the sound of Faramir’s voice. He found him behind some of the bushes. It was a harder fit for Boromir who was quite a bit larger than Faramir. He crouched down carefully, not wanting to ruin Faramir’s find.

“See!” Faramir turned to look at him, smiling the largest smile Boromir had ever seen. It warmed his heart, and he felt connected to the world as whole through his little brother’s smile.

 _Faramir is too young to understand what is going on with Mama. He does not feel it. And he should not._ Boromir was possessed so deeply with a desperate need to protect and defend. He wanted to make sure Faramir continued to be ignorant of the dark shadows that seemed to surround their little family. _Was I ever this young?_ Boromir felt himself sink into nostalgia, but shook his head, feeling a bit ridiculous. “What did you find, Fara?”

“Pretty bug.” Faramir moved to the side. For a two-year-old he was remarkably good about not hurting the things he found. He would rarely even pick them up, much happier to observe them going about their day. Indeed, it was a pretty bug.

“Hm. I do not recognize it, Little One. I wonder what it is.”

The bug crawled in amongst the fallen leaves and dirt but never disappeared from their sight. It was a strange bright blue color, which is probably what drew young Faramir’s attention in the first place. But it also had the funniest way of walking. It was difficult to pull one’s eyes from it.

Faramir sat back, leaning against Boromir. “Pretty bug for Mama?” He looked up at Boromir with his large grey eyes. They always seemed to be tinged with sorrow, _Or am I reading that into his eyes?_

Boromir tried to smile at his sweet brother. “We will not be able to bring it inside for her, but maybe we can look at it really carefully and describe it to her when we get to see her again.”

“See Mama soon?” Faramir asked.

“I am not sure, Fara.” Boromir sighed, pulling his brother into an awkward hug as they were hampered by the thick growth of bushes they were wedged inside. _I will be sure to play with you even more_ Boromir silently promised Faramir, wishing he could spare his brother some pain. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Faramir is 5 years old**

Boromir climbed the precarious shelving in the library. It was the first place he could think of that no one would be able to find him, especially not his father. He closed his eyes, feeling the tears pour down his cheeks and felt shame.

“You have already cried at her bedside and then at her funeral,” Denethor’s harsh words rang back in Boromir’s mind, “that is enough. You are a man. No need for tears. It is not as if you did not see this coming.” Denethor had seemed even colder after Finduilas had been laid in the ground. It felt like every time Boromir saw him, he froze up a little more. It scared Boromir, if he was honest, but he tried to bury that thought along with his mother. He did not want to be frightened of his father. _There is nothing to be frightened of._ He reminded himself, _Father loves you just as Mama did. He is proud of my work. He is proud of me._

But these thoughts did little to comfort Boromir. _All I want is to crawl next to Mama. To feel her warmth and get a hug from her._ He did not eve try to stop the tears freely falling down his cheeks. That was the whole point of escaping where no one would think to look for him. Finduilas had been gone for over a month, and Boromir knew that Denethor could not catch him crying again.

He scrunched himself even smaller, bringing his knees up to his face, so he could rest his wet cheeks against them. The world felt like too much right then. It was an almost oppressive weight against him. _They will not earnestly look for me for another hour. I can stay here. I have the time. Then I can . . . go back to it all._ Boromir promised himself, feeling sick at the thought of having to go and be strong again. _What is the point of strength anyways? It does not seem to do anyone much good_.

Suddenly, Boromir heard the sound of footsteps. _Someone is coming down here? No one ever does. Just my luck_. Boromir sighed and quickly tried to dry his tears. _Maybe they will not think to look up and so will not even notice me._ He desperately hoped this would be true. Boromir wanted to hide himself, but he also wanted to see who was coming. _It cannot be someone looking for me. It has not been long enough._

The sound of sniffles reached Boromir’s ears, and he was a little taken aback. _Did someone else come here to cry?_ He peeked his head out and leaned forward a little, just enough to see the person below.

The person seemed to be waiting for just that to happen. _Faramir?_ Boromir thought with some surprise. Usually, Faramir’s nurses were more careful about letting him wander off, _but then again, Faramir is quite clever. I am sure he had no trouble losing them if he wants to. He is usually just too well behaved._ It brought a fleeting smile to Boromir’s lips.

“Boromir?” Faramir quietly called up to him. “May I join you?”

Boromir nodded helplessly, _as if I would ever tell Far no_. “Come on up, Little One.”

Faramir climbed up, and Boromir helped hoist him onto the ledge. Faramir did not let go once he was beside his brother. Instead, he wrapped his thin, little arms around Boromir. “I miss her too, you know. So much. I think we _should_ cry. It honors her memory.” Faramir spoke into Boromir’s side.

“You think so? It does not shame her?”

Faramir pulled away from Boromir, clearly taking the question seriously. Boromir smiled at him, _such a clever boy. He will outstrip me that is for certain_. “It does not.” Faramir spoke firmly. “It shows her that we love her. That we hold her memory dear. That we are missing her.”

“You think she sees our tears?” Boromir whispered so quietly he wondered if Faramir could even hear him.

“Of course.” Faramir also whispered. “Uncle Imrahil told me that sometimes Father is not right about everything.”

Boromir felt himself stiffen. It seemed wrong to be talking about their father like that, and yet. . . it was comforting. To think that maybe crying is not only not bad but maybe even a good thing.

“I think Father is just as sad as we are,” Faramir continued, “but I think he struggles with knowing how to express it. And he needs to present a strong presence for the people.”

Faramir was clearly parroting back what their uncle had said to him, but Boromir felt his tears begin anew. _Is Father really as sad as we are?_ It made Boromir feel so much better. He nudged Faramir’s face back into his shoulder and hugged his brother.

 _At least we have each other. Faramir knew what I needed to hear and found me when I thought I did not want to be around anyone. I want to be this for him as well_. Boromir felt a fierceness take hold of his heart. _We may be young and now motherless, but we are not alone._ “We will always have each other, Fara. No matter what, you can tell me anything you need to. Never hide your tears from me.”

It felt like Faramir was nodding his head against Boromir’s side. “And you have me,” came Faramir’s muffled voice. But it was more than enough to comfort Boromir. He let himself cry with his brother by his side, and he felt like they were going to get through this together. 


	2. A Skylark Wounded

**Faramir is 10 years old**

Faramir scrunched his nose as he carefully crept behind the shrubs in his mother’s garden. He loved to come back here still, even though he rather thought someone would tell him not to if he was ever caught. This was why he usually stayed behind the bushes, hidden from sight, although he seemed to be getting too big of late.

Today, something smelled behind them, but he could not find what it was. As he searched, he finally found a small, furred creature, stiff and clearly dead.

Faramir just managed to stop a shout of surprise. _It had to be something that died. What else would smell like that? Why am I so surprised?_ He thought to himself a bit disconcerted even so. The thing, he could not tell what animal it was, stared with blank, pitiless eyes. They looked black and empty.

Faramir scrambled away. _Out. Need to get out. The eyes –_

He managed to pull himself out of the garden, having come in over the fence, and got back to the rooms he was expected to stay in. He did not want to think about it. He did not want to admit who those eyes made him think about.

He pulled out one of his small wooden toy swords. It had been Boromir’s beloved toy, but he gave it to Faramir when he started his training in earnest. “I cannot be saddled with childish things anymore.” Boromir had said, which made Faramir feel guilty whenever he played with it. _Should I not be saddled with childish things either?_ Faramir breathed out, looking out his small window.

His room was squeezed in between two other parts of the building so his window just showed a view of another white wall. If he leaned far enough out of it, he could just touch the other one. Boromir used to have a room adjoining his but had been moved with the heightening of his training. Faramir missed his brother. Desperately. He still saw him at least once a day, but it was not quite the same. Now, he saw his father more often than he saw Boromir.

His father who looked at him with black pitiless eyes. And only ever frowned at him. Even now it made Faramir shiver. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next week was a time of great excitement. Everyone in the kitchen was gossiping about the strange man who had arrived. He was to talk to Denethor about any number of important things. Cook smiled at Faramir where he sat in the corner of the kitchen chopping vegetables for her. She told him she loved to have his company and would sometimes give him treats. But Faramir mostly spent time here because everyone smiled at him instead of frowning.

“Is he a dangerous man?” Faramir asked quietly thinking about the way his father talked about him.

Cook’s eyes smiled at Faramir too, which made him feel warm, _just how Mama used to look at me_. _I think._ She leaned over and ruffled Faramir’s hair, “Not at all. He looked to be a good humored man – if I can call him a man. He has a certain air about him that is hard to define.”

“Yeah,” one of the kitchen boys came over to where Faramir was, “he was real nice this morning. Most polite when I brought him a tray of food.”

Faramir felt himself smiling too, “Really?”

“And while he is here, he is going to look through the library some.”

Faramir perked up even more, “He is?”

The kitchen staff laughed together. If no one had seen Faramir in while they would go out of their way to bring him food, most often finding him in the library. “I knew that would be your response,” Cook said. “You will probably get to know him best because you both will be found in the library reading books upon books.”

Faramir smiled and thanked Cook for letting him sit with them. Then he walked the path to the library, eager to meet this Mithrandir.

On his way he saw a tall, older man with a long grey beard and dressed in grey clothing. He was talking with Faramir’s father, which stopped Faramir’s steps altogether. Before he realized what he was doing, Faramir pressed himself against the wall, hoping he could not be seen.

Snatches of their conversation started to flow over towards him.

“I have not met him yet, but he sounds like a pleasant child. Why are you worried?”  
“You do not understand.” Denethor sighed. “I do not even know why I am talking about this with you.”  
“Because you need to talk about it with someone?” queried the grey stranger.

Denethor huffed, “Perhaps so. But I am sure there is someone better suited to the task.”  
The stranger laughed amiably, “It sounds like he simply makes you think of yourself too much.”

Denethor nearly growled in response, “Yes. That is _precisely_ the problem. Do not pretend you are offering some great wisdom. I already knew that.”

“Let me meet with Faramir –”

“No, he is not going to meet with you, and you are not going to assess him. I already know his failings well. I do not need your further opinion on him.” Denethor’s voice rang clear through the hall. Faramir felt it wrap around himself, strangling him.

He sank even further into the wall, wishing he had never left the warmth of the kitchens. _I knew Father did not like me. This is not a surprise._ He kept trying to tell himself, but repeating these words only made Faramir feel worse.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

There had indeed been a meeting in the library. It had confused Faramir more than anything else. A few days had passed since he heard Denethor’s opinion of his value, and Faramir had spent more than a few hours thinking on what he overheard, trying to find some equanimity about it. Faramir felt like he was in more possession of himself. However, he really wanted to be able to discuss it with his brother. He searched for him in all the places he now expected his brother to be found and discovered him at a table with several of his training comrades. Faramir blushed to interrupt them, but this felt important.

“Boromir?” he asked quietly.

Boromir’s head shot up and a large smile broke across his face, “Brother! Come, sit, join us!” Boromir shoved one of his friends over to make room for Faramir, which made Faramir smile. _Even though we do not get to spend as much time together anymore, he does want me around._ It surprised him how much he needed to feel that. 

“Sorry to interrupt you – ” Faramir started to say, but Boromir cut him off.

“Nonsense. You know I am always happy to see you. Hey,” he turned to his companions, “I will see you later, alright.” Boromir looked at them expectantly, and they seemed to take the hint, each one getting up to leave.

“You did not have to make them leave,” Faramir protested, although he was kind of relieved.

“Of course, I did. You look like you need to talk, and I know it is hard for you when you are surrounded by strangers. They are good lads, but not what you need right now.”

Faramir felt so overwhelmed by his brother’s clear love and regard. He impulsively leaned in to hug him, which Boromir reciprocated with a laugh. “Now tell me what is troubling you, Little One.”

Faramir took a deep breath trying to settle himself, “I am not sure what all to say.” _I do not want to tell him about Father, maybe that would make Boromir realize all my failings too._ So as often happens with siblings, Faramir found himself explaining his problem that was not really his problem at all. “Well, I suppose I wanted your opinion on Mithrandir.”

“The weird wizard chap who has visited Father the past week?”

Faramir nodded. “It is just that I met him in the library. He seems nice, but Father does not much like him.”

Boromir grinned, “How could you tell? Father tries so hard to appear to get along with Mithrandir.”

Faramir shrugged, unsure. “I thought it was obvious.”

Boromir let out a booming laugh, “Look, I would not worry one way or the other. Out of everyone I know I would trust your opinion the most.”

“You would?”

“Obviously. Faramir,” Boromir turned to face him, “you are brilliant. I am lucky to have you for a brother, and I know you are going to guide me well. I always look to you for what to think.”

Faramir laughed, “Alright. Thank you, Boromir.”

“Now come on. I am going to get us a pint each and you are going to drink with me!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Faramir dressed carefully, knowing this was an important meal. He would be seated on the raised dais with his father because Boromir had left yesterday to continue his training in the forests. Denethor did not want to disrupt the training for Mithrandir, whom he clearly disdained. Faramir studied himself in the mirror. _Just because Father thinks this is slighting Mithrandir, it does not mean that Mithrandir will view it as a slight. He likes me. I think_. He made a face at himself. It was going to be a difficult dinner with Denethor trying to make subtle jabs at Mithrandir while also insinuating that his younger son was a disappointment. _What fun_.

Faramir took one last look and decided this was as good as it was going to look and headed out the door. He was seated next to his father and across from Mithrandir who smiled at him pleasantly. Faramir could not help but return the smile. He had decided he really liked the old, grey stranger. He was a kind man, who was wise. _If I listen carefully to him, I think my life will be better for it_. However, Faramir was careful to keep these thoughts mostly to himself.

Halfway through the dinner, a conversation had begun to Faramir’s right about the return of the king. It was a favorite subject to be brought up as such occasions as the feast and almost always happened when everyone had several glasses of wine. Faramir smiled to hear the same conversations repeating themselves, swirling around him.

He wanted to join in, but he knew Father would not like it. He worked to hold his tongue and make sure not to embarrass Denethor or give him a reason to look down on him. However, it seemed like the table had other thoughts.

“What do you think young Faramir,” an important leader of one of the guilds said, drawing Faramir into the conversation. _Surely Father would be more disappointed in me if I were to ignore such a clear invitation._

He looked up, “As a member of the house of the Steward, I eagerly await the return of the king. What could be better for Gondor than to have the old kingship reinstated. We, of course, were only ever supposed to be caretakers – ready to hand the kingdom back to the rightful ruler at the appointed time.” Faramir looked at each of the people in the conversation, feeling that what he was saying was not only true, but needed to be said.

This felt even more potent when his gaze swung over to his father, who looked at him with those black eyes. They were angry. And Faramir had to steel himself to not shy away like some child. Instead, he wanted to prove himself. He felt a strange confidence seize him, and he could tell what bothered his father, which he thought was wrong. _We are not supposed to grasp at this power. We are not supposed to try to keep it. We are supposed to be perpetually ready, continually preparing to give it up_. Keeping the firm eye contact with his father, Faramir said, “Is not that right, Father.”

Denethor looked suddenly stricken, betrayed. “Faramir, you are embarrassing yourself yet again. I do not know why you insist on speaking, just to reveal yourself a childish fool. You know he is one of the worst of his year in sword play,” Denethor deftly redirected the conversation, getting all of the important people to look at Faramir with pity. _This is to discredit anything I say. That is why he is saying this_. Faramir tried to bolster himself up with these thoughts, but Denethor continued. “his sword master actually commented on how Faramir here is the worst pupil he has had in over a decade. It does not look like my youngest is going to do much good defending Gondor.”

Faramir felt each word hitting him and longed to shrink down into his seat, but he did not want to give Denethor the satisfaction. He managed to meet people’s eyes, even as he made sure to banish the tears from his own. Mithrandir met his gaze, his eyes comforting and offering support. Faramir was not sure how he read that so clearly, but he knew that was what Mithrandir was doing. He still felt his face heating with humiliation, but it was nice that Mithrandir did not think less of him because he struggled in his sword training.

“That is not a surprise, Denethor,” Mithrandir said, quieting everyone around the table. Everyone wanted to hear what he would say. “You struggled mightily with the sword when you were even older than Faramir as I recall.” Mithrandir paused to laugh a little, which most of the table joined in. “And I will say that I met the most charming instructor of young Faramir’s. He said he has never taught a student more adept at the bow and arrow. Faramir is accounted above all others his age or even as old as Boromir. A thing any father would be proud of, and certainly something that will be useful in provided defense on behalf of Gondor.”

The other people around the table nodded their heads in agreement, some even smiling at Faramir, clearly impressed by the report. Faramir’s face continued to burn, but this time with quiet pride and embarrassment of being praised so publicly. He did not dare look at his father, keeping his eyes down for the rest of the meal. The conversation moved to other topics, but Faramir would never forget the warmth of someone, a near stranger, stranding up for him. It would stay with him his entire life. 

**Author's Note:**

> Here is a link to the beautiful “Auguries of Innocence” by William Blake. I think about these first four lines all of the time that I will just include here:   
> To see a World in a Grain of Sand  
> And a Heaven in a Wild Flower   
> Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand   
> And Eternity in an hour  
> [ Auguries of Innocence ](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43650/auguries-of-innocence)


End file.
